


as we make it

by thewayofthemandalorian



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Non-Explicit Sex, Period-Typical Sexism, Slight Canon Divergence, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29696610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayofthemandalorian/pseuds/thewayofthemandalorian
Summary: In the aftermath of Colonel Horacio Carrillo’s death, you go to check on your partner, Javier. Your relationship with him changes that night, in more ways than one, as the two of you are cornered and recruited to have a mutually beneficial liason with the vigilante group known as Los Pepes.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I was never going to write another Javier Peña fic again after shelter. Surprise! I am planning this fic to be 3-4 parts long. I hope you all enjoy this fic. Since I am not a Spanish speaker, I put the large chunks of Spanish dialogue (mostly at the end of the chapter) in italics because I do not trust myself or the various online translation tools for that much translation. Title comes from the song Third of May by Fleet Foxes.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Referenced canon-typical violence, mentions and discussions of death/murder, funeral, self-blame, swearing, mutual pining, some angst, food mention, alcohol mention, smoking, non-explicit sexual content
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @thewayofthemandalorian

Played. Like a damn fool.

Javier lit up a cigarette as he tried to make sense of the scene in front of him, the carnage that had unfolded in the street surrounding him. Across the way, you were talking to a surviving member of the Search Bloc, who had managed to survive the attack with minimal damage. The poor son of a bitch would have tinnitus for the rest of his life, but at least he got a life.

Unlike Horacio Carillo. Who was dead in part thanks to Javier. Bringing a shaky hand up to his lips, Javier took a long drag of his cigarette, tearing his gaze from you as Steve got his attention.

“I’ll go back to Bogotá with the body until the funeral,” said Steve.

Javi nodded absently. “They call his wife?” he asked, not daring to call the fallen colonel by name.

It was Steve’s turn to nod, confirming that she was coming from Madrid. Javi’s eyes flicked to where you were still standing, still taking in what had happened here. It wasn’t fair. Horacio didn’t deserve this. None of you deserved this. Catching Javier’s look of remorse and guilt, Steve tried his hardest. He really did. “This ain’t on you, Javi. It’s on Escobar. And one way or another, he pays.”

Javier’s voice was tired, so tired, when he finally replied. “We all do. Right?”

With nothing left to say, because really, what was there to say, Steve began to walk to the ambulance where Carillo’s lifeless body lay. Patting you on the shoulder in a goodnight, Steve clambered into the back of the ambulance.

All Javier wanted to do was crawl into a hole somewhere. Hide for ten, twenty years with nothing but an endless bottle of whiskey. But he had a job to do.

It was then, with just a little stub of the cigarette left before the filter, that you turned. Met his gaze with a sad one of your own. _Did he always look this sad and forlorn?_ you asked yourself as you finished your discussion with the Search Bloc member.

Javi held your gaze for a long moment before giving you a curt nod. He seemed to look into your very soul with his piercing gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional or just a Javier thing.

You’d been in Colombia for just over a year and a half and you still didn’t understand your partner. Steve, you understood just fine. But this one? Constantly eluding you. You supposed you liked that about him.

Dropping your gaze, Javi broke eye contact as he breezed past you, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall of a building as he made his way to his Jeep.

Javier wasn’t sure where he was going until he found himself back on base. Door shut, he sat in an abandoned office, a glass of whiskey forgotten on the desk next to the ashtray where a barely-smoked cigarette lay, still smoking.

A knock on the door interrupted his chaotic reverie. Not giving Javier a chance to reply whether to come in or to go away, the door opened, revealing Messina.

His boss walked up to where Javier was sitting. He already knew what she was going to say. It was clear by the way she looked at him, almost pityingly.

And sure enough - “It’s not your fault, Peña.”

“No?” Javier asked, his voice hoarse. It sure as hell felt like it was his fault. If it wasn’t his fault, then why did he feel a pit in his stomach, a knot in his chest?

“No,” Messina repeated.

Javier picked up the glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid in the glass before taking a sip. “I got played,” he said eventually. He didn’t know what part Maritza played in this, or Gabby for that matter, but they had played him like a fucking fiddle.

“We _all_ got played,” corrected Messina, “we all had the information, it was backed up by Centra Spike -”

Javier rubbed his forehead as he shut his eyes in frustration. He could feel a headache forming right in the centre of his forehead, blooming like a flower the more Messina spoke. “Stop.” He exhaled slowly. “Just…” he sighed again, frustration bleeding into his voice, “you know, you coming here…” Javi paused once more, almost in an attempt to collect his thoughts, his words. “You say all the right things. Doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”

Messina’s face remained the same; impassive yet pitying. He didn’t want or need her pity. She didn’t say anything for a moment, perhaps realizing that Javi was right, she was doing more harm than good. Finally, she said, “Colonel Carillo’s funeral will be tomorrow.”

Javier waited until Messina had shut the door behind her to say, “I don’t do funerals,” speaking to an empty room.

* * *

“Javi riding with us?” you asked Steve as you met him and Connie at the front door of the apartment building. You raised a discreet eyebrow at Steve upon seeing Connie at his side. It had been months since you had seen Murphy’s wife, not since before she had left Colombia with Olivia.

Steve offered a look that promised he would explain later before sighing at your question. “Javi ain’t coming. Says he doesn’t do funerals, whatever the fuck that means.”

 _It means that he didn’t want to show his face, when he felt responsible_ , you thought to yourself. “Just us, then?” you asked. Steve nodded in confirmation.

Before leaving the apartment unit, you gave Connie a big hug. You’d felt the sting of her departure when she left with Olivia all those months ago. She’d been your first real friend in Colombia when you arrived on the scene a year and a half ago. “It’s good to see you,” you murmured.

The two of you had a lot to catch up on; she was the only person who knew what happened between you and Javier about six months ago. She hadn’t fully agreed with your decision in the aftermath, but she understood all the same. It had been for the best - you couldn’t let your personal life cloud your professional life; being a woman in the DEA was an uphill battle ninety-nine percent of the time. If you had continued what had transpired? It would be a Herculean feat not to be fired or, at the very least, strongly reprimanded while Javier would simply get a light tap on the wrist. It was tricky sometimes, being partnered with two men. Sometimes it felt like you had a majority of the brain cells. But the three of you got on well, sometimes _too_ well.

With one lingering glance at Javier’s closed door across the hallway, you sighed, wondering what he was doing. It was quiet, almost _too_ quiet for Javier Peña’s apartment.

He’d come home hours after you last night. While you were laying in your bed after taking a melatonin pill from the bottle you kept stashed at the back of the medicine cabinet in the event of something like this, trying to get some semblance of sleep after the hellish day all of you had experienced, you heard the tell-tale sign of Javier finally coming back to his apartment after doing god knows what. After a bit of puttering around, nothing but silence aside from a few sighs.

Javier did not do most things, outside of maybe thinking, quietly. Hell, he even typed loudly. So you knew when he came home, when he had company over. You tried not to let the latter bother you. And most of the time it didn’t. But sometimes - most of the time - you wondered if you had made a mistake in pretending what had happened between the two of you didn’t really happen.

You sighed, forcing yourself not to think of such petty, inane things at a time like this.

“You hear that Sandoval is taking the blame?” Steve asked you from the driver’s seat, pulling you firmly out of your reverie.

“What?” you said blankly, “he had nothing to do with Carrillo’s death!”

Steve just sighed, shaking his head. “The papers are saying that he was the one that pushed Gaviria to bring Carrillo back. That he was wrongly advised.”

You scoffed. “That’s bullshit. It’s so fucked up,” you muttered, “the whole thing. It’s on nobody but Escobar.”

“Try telling that to Javi,” said Steve, pulling into the church parking lot.

You’d never met Horacio Carrillo’s wife before, but had heard lovely things about her from the late Colonel. “Horacio has said such lovely things about all of you,” she said, greeting both you and Steve by name. “But where is Agent Peña?” she asked.

Steve, Connie and you all shared a glance before you replied, not dishonestly, “Agent Peña isn’t feeling well but he sends his regards and condolences.” It was a true display of diplomacy. Mrs. Carrillo nodded sadly before moving on to greeting another attendee.

The funeral was not long by state funeral standards. There was no wake. As the family members made their way to the cemetery for the burial, you stood back with Connie, while Steve spoke to Messina blandly.

“How are things going with you and Javi?” she asked finally.

You blinked in the suddenly-appearing, dim sunlight. “I mean, we’re _friends_ ,” you offered, “but I don’t know. Things have kind of come to a stand-still.”

Connie nodded. “Honey, I saw the way he looked at you before I left three months ago. That man wants to be more than just friends with you,” she said bluntly.

You couldn’t help the scoff. “Sure he does,” you said, sarcasm dripping heavily from your voice.

Your friend shot you a look. “Friends don’t kiss friends in evidence cupboards in the way you described that kiss,” she said.

She had a point, you had to admit. But all the same, “Yeah, but it’s _Javi_.”

“Exactly,” countered Connie. “When has Javier Peña ever been upfront about anything?”

You grumbled. “How long are you here for?” you asked, changing the subject as you noticed Steve wrapping up his conversation and walking over to the two of you.

“Two weeks,” she said.

Steve slung an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Ugh, don’t remind me you have to go back home,” he said as the three of you made it to the car.

* * *

Javier looked down at the phone he held in his hand. He could hear the buzzing of the dial tone, prompting him to punch in the number to make the call. Before he could dial the number of Freckles to see if she had an hour to spare to come keep him company, there was a knock on the door.

“Go away, Murph!” he shouted.

Looking back down at the receiver in his hand, he again attempted to dial the number before the knock returned.

Grumbling, he replaced the receiver to the cradle before marching over to see what could possibly be so damn important that needed his utmost attention.

But it wasn’t Steve at the door. It was _you_.

Dressed in what he assumed was what you wore to Carrillo’s funeral, you held a container of food in one hand. You looked beautiful. You always looked beautiful to Javier. The dress was navy blue, a black shrug sweater to pair with it. Tights on your legs and shoeless feet. Your eyes were almost as stormy as his. God, you were beautiful.

Instead of saying that, what came out was, “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, Javi,” you replied. “You weren’t at the funeral.”

Javier shook his head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“And you look like shit,” you continued.

That got a small, humourless chuckle out of him. Small victories, you supposed. “Thanks, _hermosa_ ,” he said.

“Can I come in?” you asked, ignoring his nickname and the way it made you feel, “or am I interrupting something? I come bearing sustenance that isn’t beer or whiskey or cigarettes.” You held up the container of leftover chicken, rice, and green beans.

“Not interruptin’ anything. Come on in.”

Stepping into Javier’s apartment, you saw that it was in a bit of a shambles. It wasn’t a pig-sty by any means, he had clearly given a half-assed attempt at tidying at some point in the last twelve hours. It was hardly the first time you’d been to his apartment in the past year and a half, but you tried to keep your distance, especially following your impromptu make out session in the evidence room six months ago. You both knew it was a bad idea, and tried to pretend it had never happened. It _couldn’t_ happen, you had reasoned with yourself. But here you were.

“You weren’t at the funeral,” you said again, putting the container of food in the microwave. “And you haven’t made a sound in about twelve hours, which is practically _unheard_ of coming from you.”

Javier made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. You turned your gaze from the microwave. “Thought you were Murphy,” he said finally.

“He’s with Connie,” you said.

That was the first thing you said all day that got more of a reaction from Javier than dull sadness. “Connie?” he asked, “what’s she doing here?”

You shrugged as if it was obvious. “Here for Steve for two weeks. Kid’s with Connie’s sister in Miami.”

“Huh,” said Javi, “well good for Steve.” The microwave beeped. As you busied yourself with putting the food on a plate, Javier sat down at the kitchen table where you had once pored over a sea of photographs with him, completely missing the way he looked at you. That had been three weeks after you and he had kissed each other in the evidence closet.

Unceremoniously, you set the plate and some silverware along with a tall glass of water on the table in front of Javi. “ _Eat,_ Javi,” you said, not completely uncommanding. It wasn’t like you to be commanding.

Javier grumbled something under his breath. You just raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to argue with you. Picking up the fork, he piled a small mountain of rice into his mouth, followed up quickly by a piece of the seasoned chicken. “Mmmm,” he said around a mouthful of food as you settled into the chair across the table from him. “Was hungrier than I thought.”

You just nodded wordlessly as he gulped down a sip of the water to wash down the food. “Of course,” you said.

It’s one of the many things Javier admired about you, your caring, nurturing nature. How you hadn’t been worn down by it all yet was surprising to Javier. Most people who were in this line of work were inevitably worn out sooner or later. Your kindness, your brightness, was a balm on his weary soul; you were like a ray of sunshine on a stormy day. The way you saw through his bullshit and took care of him. But as he looked at you from across the table now, he could see it more clearly. The brightness in your eyes had dimmed compared to when you first arrived in Colombia eighteen months ago. Was this a new thing or had he just been too caught up in everything else that he had failed to notice it? Maybe, he thought, you were better at hiding it than he was.

After his late lunch (a gruff “thank you, _hermosa_ ” as he set down the knife and fork on the now empty plate), you and he tidied the kitchen in companionable silence. It wasn’t a perfect tidy-up, but it was better than it had been.

The dishwasher thrumming quietly in the background, you and he sat side by side on his couch. You stared at the wall, the kitchen, and, for a spell, each other. The both of you are still haunted by the kiss you shared in the evidence room half a year ago.

Finally breaking the silence, you said, “Mrs. Carrillo asked about you at the funeral. I told her you weren’t feeling well but that you sent your condolences.”

“A truly diplomatic answer,” Javi replied blandly. You couldn’t help the humourless chuckle that escaped your lips.

Another moment of silence before you continued. “Why… why weren’t you at the funeral, Javi?” You looked away from him as you asked, not wanting to probe too much.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything. His silence spoke louder than any words could. _Oh_.

“You know…” you started, not wanting to offer him platitudes or false reassurances, “it isn’t your fault Javier. For what happened last night. I thought it was good intel, too. It doesn’t make you responsible, giving someone the benefit of the doubt. That makes you a _good_ person, Javier. Don’t carry the blame for Escobar’s actions,” you said gently.

He was quiet still. Thinking, pondering. How many variations of those words he’d heard in the past fifteen hours was more than he could count, but you were the first person he actually believed when you said it. “I just…” he started on a shaky breath, “d’you ever feel cursed?”

Your closer proximity to each other went unnoticed, unmentioned. “Every goddamn day,” you whispered, suddenly fighting back tears that had appeared to come out of nowhere. You chuckled sadly, ruefully. “What a pair we make, huh?”

And then he was kissing you. Or you were kissing him. You were unsure who had initiated it, much like the last time you had kissed each other. If you were a betting woman, you would place your bet on the both of you initiating it.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that his mouth was against your own responsive one. His lips were at home against yours. “Thought we weren’t doing this,” he whispered hoarsely in between kisses.

You shook your head. Why had you denied yourselves this for so long? To hell with the self-imposed restrictions, to hell with the consequences you couldn’t care less about. Giving the answer that you wanted to say, that Javier wanted to hear, you replied, “I want to do this. I’ve wanted this for the past six months. Longer than six months,” you admitted. And it was the truth.

Javier’s lips moved expertly against your own lips, your cheek, down your jaw. You wanted this. And based on the way he was pressed against you, he wanted this just as much as you did.

“Javi, Javi,” you whispered as he mouthed a kiss to your jaw, then to your chin, your neck. He was simultaneously too close and not close enough.

Pulling the sweater down your arms, he turned his attention to the bare skin of your shoulders, your arms, down one arm and up the other. You were suddenly hyper-aware of what was about to happen. It wasn’t your intention when you came over an hour ago to do this; you had just wanted to check on him, make sure he was all right.

You knew it probably wouldn’t amount to anything more than partners having sex to release their frustrations. Javier didn’t _do_ relationships. But, you thought as he made quick work of unzipping your dress, you were okay with whatever he had to offer. You’ll give all that you have to offer and take all that he has to offer in return.

Stifling a shiver as Javier looked into your eyes as his warm hands find purchase on your back, you nodded at the unspoken question, whispering, “Yes, Javi. Yes.”

As you found solace with each other, his name was a crescendo from your lips. _Right there, Javi, right there,_ you whispered until you had no thoughts apart from him and you and this. The crescendo peaked with his name a hoarse cry from your lips. You were sure you saw stars dance in your vision as you shudder against him; you were this close to disintegration from the feeling of him.

* * *

Not a word was spoken for a long time as you lay against Javier in the afterglow on the sofa. Both of you knew that one of two things was going to happen.

Option one, you would pretend that nothing had happened and that this was a one-time thing like the kiss you shared with him six months ago. Option two, you’ve started down a path of sleeping with your partner. You knew that if that was the path you were going down, it would in all likelihood just be sleeping together. You’d heard the stories. That Javier didn’t do relationships.

Though Javier was taller than you, he was positioned so that he was lying on your chest. He pressed kisses into your chin as you silently ruminated what exactly would happen.

You needed to go. Needed to think. Untangling yourself from him, you scanned the floor for where your dress had landed after he’d thrown it so that you could get dressed and go.

But you didn’t get very far. Just as you were sitting up, he sat up too, pulling you back into his warmth. “Where are you going, _mi sol_?” he whispered.

Shaking your head, you couldn’t come up with an answer. It was getting late in the evening. You were hungry. And tired, so goddamn tired. “I…” you tried to start.

Javier understood, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes plain as day. Drawing you close, he pressed a kiss to your forehead just between your eyes before returning his lips to yours. A small gesture, but one that held so much meaning to you. You relaxed against him.

“D’you… wanna grab something to eat?” he asked. He was almost bashful, shy. As though he were in high school asking his crush to go to the prom with him. It was cute, a side of Javier Peña that you had never seen before.

This, you hadn’t been expecting. What did you have to lose? “All right. Sure,” you agreed. “But can I change into something a bit less formal first?”

A bit less formal ended up looking like a spare grey t-shirt of Javier’s, some jeans and his DEA-issued rainjacket.

You’d been to the place Javier ended up taking you to. It was often a place where you and Javi would have lunch before a stakeout. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were on a date with Javier Peña. He kept you close to his side as he lit up a smoke, the two of you walking up to the counter to order something to eat, his leather-clad arm slung around your shoulder as he placed the order in Spanish.

As you were getting more comfortable, at his side, at the prospect of navigating whatever it was that was happening with the two of you, you sensed someone coming up to the counter. Hackles raised to high alert, both you and Javier turned to see Don Berna.

“ _What now?”_ sighed Javi in Spanish as he turned slightly to face Berna, not taking his arm from around you. “ _What the fuck do you want?”_

“ _I want to help you_ ,” replied Berna, taking in both Javier and you.

Javi scoffed. “ _Oh yeah?_ ” His sarcasm was hard to miss.

“ _Come with me and I’ll show you_ ,” said Don Berna addressing the two of you. Before either of you could make a reply, he had already started walking back out the way he came.

Sharing a look, you and Javier both came to the same realization that it would probably be wise not to cross this man and to follow him.

In the back seat of Berna’s truck, you continued to feel his eyes on you through the entire, long, car ride that is filled with nothing but silence. Somehow, you think, you weren’t a part of whatever Berna’s original plan was. The thought made you shudder involuntarily.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the car pulled into an expansive property. Whoever lived here clearly had money to burn. People with guns were stationed at every possible entry. Berna led the two of you into the house, pausing to tell the two of you to make yourself at home. The statement did little to calm you.

Javier knew that you could take care of yourself, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from whispering in an undertone so that only you could hear, “Stay close, _querida_.” One hand in yours, the other was at his gun, ready for any possible scenario.

Berna directed you to go down the stairs into the basement, taking up the rear. Both your mind and Javier’s were racing a mile a minute, going through every possible and impossible situation that you found yourselves in.

Two men you recognized as the Castaño brothers, enemies of a sort to Pablo Escobar, sat in the corner of the room you were ushered into. They turned to look at you and Javi, and you were certain your expression matched Javier’s own dumbfounded one.

Judy Moncada stepped into the room, drink in hand. After a split second look of incredulity at the sight of you (which only confirmed your earlier theory that you were not meant to be here), she addressed both of you by name. “ _Well, I suppose two DEA Agents are better than one. Welcome to Montecasino_ ,” she said in Spanish.

You turned to look at Javier again, undoubtedly thinking the same thought. _What the hell have we just gotten ourselves into?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this story! I kind of played with the timeline a little bit and made things more spread out than they are presented in the show. As with chapter one, large portions of Spanish dialogue are in italics since I do not speak Spanish.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Kissing, mutually unrequited, period typical sexism, smoking, drinking, canon-typical violence, implied/referenced (non-explicit/non-descriptive) sex, shooting (reader is shot, but is all right), seduction, Javier Peña being a menace, feelings.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @thewayofthemandalorian

_Six months earlier_

It was late, nearing on midnight. Steve had left some time ago for the night, claiming that he couldn’t think straight after a long day like today had been. Now, it was just you and Javier, poring over what little of the new evidence you’ve gathered on a potential new lead that could possibly direct you straight to Escobar.

Most of the evidence that was spread out on the small-ish table was evidence that you had collected. Noonan had wanted to give Steve the credit for the evidence. Your other partner had put his foot down, saying that all of the stuff of value had come from you. Shooting him a grateful look as you exited the ambassador’s office, you had no idea how much you would miss Noonan when she was eventually replaced with Arthur Crosby, who was more antiquated than Noonan ever dreamed of being.

Javier stubbed out the fourth cigarette he’d smoked that night. “Night cap?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?” you said, blinking.

Javi glanced towards the bottle of whiskey on the desk. “A night cap,” he repeated, “looks like you could use one.”

You shrugged. “Sure. Yeah, I could do with one,” you agreed.

Pulling out two glasses, Javier poured a healthy amount of whiskey in both of them, handing you yours. “To bureaucratic bullshit,” he toasted.

“And all of its rewards,” you intoned just as drily before knocking back a sip. The whiskey burned on its way down. Always wanting to impress Javier, you attempted to stifle the cough that was tickling your throat.

It had been hours since either of you had spoken about anything other than the evidence that was becoming more and more useless the more you combed through it. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“For what?” replied Javier.

You gestured at the evidence with the glass. “For giving me credit on this collection of evidence. God, it’s been a year since I started here next week, and it feels like nothing is getting accomplished. Like I’m just spinning my wheels.” You didn’t mean to be such a downer, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

Javier sighed. “I know what you mean. The DEA is not a kind place to be, especially if you’re a woman.”

He didn’t understand, not really. But it was nice all the same to hear him say what you’ve been thinking for the past twelve months.

Sighing again, you took another sip of your whiskey. “I mean it, though. My partners back in Texas wouldn’t have backed me up. He would have taken credit for all of it without so much as a second thought.”

Javier spoke your name quietly, gathering your attention. “You know I got your back, right?” You nodded. He did have your back.

You didn’t know how he had gotten so close, his face mere inches from yours. You looked up at his eyes, fiery and burning with intensity. The mere flicker of your eyes to the direction of his lips was all the permission he - you? - needed to close the ever decreasing gap between your lips and his.

It would be a lie to say that you’d never thought of kissing Javier Peña; you’d thought of it often. But your dreams paled in comparison to the reality. He was kissing you and you were kissing him back. This was no dream; his lips glided expertly over yours, testing the waters before opening his mouth against yours.

You let out a soft sigh as your mouth opened in response. Winding your arms around his neck, your fingers tangled in the knot of hair that curled at the bottom. His hair was unimaginably soft, like his lips were against yours.

Somehow, without even realizing it, he had pushed you up against the metal filing cabinet as his mouth began to explore your face, your cheeks, your jaw. It was as though Javier had read a manual on you, knowing exactly what to do in order to make you melt in his arms.

As he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his lips never far from yours, a thought you wanted to banish makes itself known.

 _We shouldn’t do this_.

“Javi,” you whispered as he attached his lips to your jaw, beginning to nip and kiss there. He let out a faint _hmmm?_ “Javier, wait,” you repeated yourself louder. You had no idea where in the hell this newfound self-restraint had come from, but you knew what the consequences would be if you continued this, and there were many.

Very half-heartedly, you pushed him off of you, immediately missing his close proximity to you, his warmth. It was as though all your many billions of nerve endings were on fire. You were both breathing heavily, lips kiss-swollen and bruised.

Before you could throw caution to the wind, pull him back and continue kissing, you forced yourself to speak, the self-restraint beginning to wane. “It’s late, Javi,” you said lamely, “think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Y-yeah,” Javier replied, “yeah, sounds good.” Neither of you could look at each other.

Offering a feeble goodnight over your shoulder, you were out of the evidence room, out of the Embassy, before you could change your mind.

It was a bad idea. You knew you couldn’t get involved with a co-worker. Especially Javier Peña, a man who said so himself that he didn’t do relationships. It could get you into trouble. Both of you, though your punishment would be more severe than Javier’s would be.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror of your car. You argued with yourself the entire drive home, driving on autopilot as you went back and forth.

You _liked_ Javier, but you knew that he only saw you as a colleague. If he didn’t, he would have laid on the charm a lot more. No, he just saw you as a work friend at best. But you couldn’t deny the way he had whispered your name, the way he had kissed you as though a man parched and you were a glass of water, like he needed you.

 _Maybe that’s just how Javier Peña kisses_ , you thought as you pulled into your parking space. Killing the engine, you sat in the car for another five minutes, thinking about what to do.

Connie would know what to do, you thought. You just hoped she was still awake.

“I know it’s late and I’m sorry but I really need to talk to you,” you whispered when she opened the door.

Connie took one look at your kiss-swollen and bruised lips and opened the door to let you in. “You and Javi finally come to your senses?” she asked, glancing at the bedroom door. “Don’t worry, Steve’s out like a light,” she reassured you.

You told her everything. How he’d had your back, how you and he had kissed, and how it couldn’t happen again. Connie’s eyebrow raised. “Can’t happen again?” she echoed. “Why in the hell not?”

“Because - well, besides the obvious getting into trouble and possibly getting fired,” you started, rolling your eyes at the antiquated bullshit, “I don’t think Javier likes me the way I like him.”

Connie frowned. “I don’t think that’s true.” She had seen the way Javier had looked at you. The way he treated you.

“I think it is. Like… you know how he lays the charm on thick with every woman he comes in contact with?” Your friend nodded. “Well, he doesn’t do that with me. Not once.”

Connie wanted to scream. She’d known Javier longer than you. The fact that Javi had never once charmed you was a glaring, neon bright sign that Javier had it bad for you. “I don’t think it’s that simple,” she said carefully, not wanting to be the one to tell you that Javi had feelings for you. “Honey, do whatever you think is right, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to deny these very real feelings that you have for each other.” You sputtered, telling her that there were no feelings. She silenced you with another raised eyebrow before proceeding. “Listen, I know there are risks involved. But the reward is worth the risk, in my opinion.”

Connie yawned, glancing at the clock. “Honey, as much as I would love to continue this, it’s almost one in the morning and I have an early morning shift tomorrow.”

Returning to your apartment after saying goodnight to Connie, you sat up on your couch for a while, thinking everything over. It wouldn’t be smart to pursue any kind of relationship with him outside of professional. As much as you valued Connie’s opinion, you didn’t think it was accurate this time around; there were no feelings on Javier’s part. No, it was best if you just continued on as if nothing had happened.

Settling into bed, mind made up, you staunchly ignored the small voice in the back of your head asking, _What if he does have feelings for you?_

The next morning, you managed to catch Javier at his door. “Morning,” he greeted you.

“Hi,” you started, and before he could say anything else, you took the plunge, determined not to let your resolve break. “Listen, um, about last night. I-I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do that again.”

Javier’s expression was blank. “Right,” he agreed. “Yeah, it’s - we don’t want to get in trouble.”

The relief was hollow. Still, you swallowed and nodded. “Exactly. We can’t afford it.”

As you studied his face, you couldn’t help but notice a flicker of … _was that disappointment?_

* * *

_Today, Judy Moncada’s house_

You and Javier couldn’t tear your eyes away from the table that was practically overwhelmed with photographs. He was wearing a hard, steely look as he took in the countless number of pictures, mind racing a million miles per minute.

“ _I am sure you recognize at least a few of these people, right?_ ” asked Judy.

Javier pulled his eyes from the table to look at the woman that summoned the two of you to this place. “ _It looks like you raided the family album_ ,” he attempted to joke. You stifled a snort, still wary of the two Castaño brothers that were still seated in their plush leather seats.

Judy’s eyes flickered between the photos and the two of you, your hand at the small of Javier’s back, quickly calculating what she was witnessing. “ _Let me tell you something_ ,” she said, still not looking away from you and Javier, “ _before this son of a bitch killed my husband, killed my brother, all of these people,_ ” she gestured to the table, “ _were my friends. What do you think of that, agents?”_

 _“Is this a test?_ ” you asked after a moment. Judy chuckled and raised an eyebrow at you as if to confirm this.

Instinctively, Javier put a protective arm around you. “ _Well, it looks like you made some new friends, eh?_ ” he quipped. He tilted his chin in the direction of the Castaño brothers, who were both watching everything unfold intently.

Judy did not react to the barb. She just said, “ _You could say we share a common goal, agents. Same as yours.”_

You and Javier chuckled humourlessly. “ _That so?_ ” asked Javier as though asking what the weather forecast for tomorrow would be. Judy confirmed it with a nod. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” snarled Javier after a moment. He took you by the hand. “Come on, _mi sol_. We are leaving,” he said.

But you didn’t get so much as two feet before Don Berna stopped you. “ _Wait, please. I’d like you to hear us out._ ”

Imperceptible to all but Javier, you gave a slight nod. “Okay,” sighed Javier.

From behind you, one of the brothers said, “ _We want Escobar dead, too, but let’s not fool ourselves. The government hasn’t been doing anything_.” Though you hated to admit it, he had a point. “ _You haven’t been able to get anywhere close to getting to him._ ” The brother stood, walking towards you and Javier. “ _The only play you had was Carrillo, and look how that ended up._ ”

At the same time as you said, “ _How dare you_ ,” Javier asked, “ _So, you are taking a break from burning down villages?_ ” The brother countered that they were simply filling in for an absent government.

“ _We are going to kill everybody that Escobar is close to, one by one, until he is alone, with nothing. What we want is for him to understand something. That he is not untouchable. For him to be afraid,”_ said Judy. “ _However, there’s just one small problem, agents._ ”

Javi scoffed. “ _Just one?”_ he asked incredulously. He rolled his eyes.

Nodding, Judy said, “ _We need the government’s equipment for surveillance. Satellite technology, too._ ”

It was your turn to sound incredulous. “ _And we are just supposed to, what, hand that over to you?_ ”

Judy shrugged as if it were obvious. “ _We have been partners for a while. All the information he gave you_ ,” she pointed at Don Berna, “ _I gave to him_.” Berna nodded in confirmation.

As if all of a sudden, every single pair of eyes in the room were fixed on you and Javi. You didn’t like it. At all. You squeezed his hand. “Javi,” you whispered in English, knowing that if he heard the fear in your voice, everyone else would, too. “Javi, let’s go. Can we go, please?”

Javi nodded. “Yes, _mi sol_ ,” he said to you before addressing the room at large, “ _we’re leaving. We’ve heard enough. Thanks for the drink.”_

When you made it outside, you inhaled a deep breath of fresh air as Javier pressed his lips to the side of your head soothingly. “I’m sorry, _mi sol_ ,” he whispered before lighting up a cigarette.

After he’s taken a long drag, you surprised him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag for yourself. You didn’t smoke often, but tonight was seriously making you reconsider your life choices. As you handed the cigarette back to Javi, Don Berna emerged from the house.

“ _Too much stupidity for our liking_ ,” muttered Javi to Berna. Don Berna’s attempts to reassure the two of you that the Castaño brothers fell upon deaf ears. “ _I was referring to you_ ,” clarified Javier.

Surprisingly, Don Berna owned up to it. “ _Yes, I am a narco. But like you, I believe in honour and loyalty_. _Unlike Pablo_.”

Judy was the next person to come outside, ordering Berna to get the truck. She walked over to stand next to Javi on the side that you were not on. You snake your arm around his hip, pulling him closer to you. You didn’t trust that woman. Or anyone who worked for her. “ _Are you going to give me a cigarette or not?”_ she demanded. Silently, Javier obliged.

A bird called in the distance as she inhaled deeply. “ _We really want you to realize the potential of what we are offering you,_ ” Judy said, smiling sweetly at the two of you. “ _With all the information in the world, you still have to be police, right?_ ” Neither you nor Javi said anything, just staring at her. “ _I understand what it is to have someone I care about killed by him._ ” She pulled out a folded-up piece of paper, handing it to Javier.

Leaning over to read it, you saw that it was an address. “ _What is this?_ ” you asked as Javier exhaled smoke.

 _“Valuable information that was easy to find_. _Take it_.” Judy sounded as though it was nothing at all. “ _That little girl is staying with a friend. Maritza, the one who betrayed you and had the Colonel killed_.” Suddenly changing tactics, she asked, “ _How long have the two of you been together?_ ”

Before either you or Javier had a chance to ask what she meant, Don Berna pulled up with the car. You were expecting Javi to get in the front seat again, but he surprised you. “Move over,” he muttered quietly, getting in beside you. His hand never left yours the entire car ride home and, outside of him asking you, “Are you all right, _mi sol?_ ” not a word was spoken the entire car journey home.

Once the two of you were safely inside your apartment, Javier was upon you. “ _Mi sol_ , are you all right?” he asked as he pressed kisses to your face. You shivered as he kissed you. “I was not expecting that to happen when I asked you if you wanted to go out to eat.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as you clutched at his shirt as he kissed you again. “Let _me_ make you feel better for once, _mi amor_.”

“Hmmm?” you asked. “What do you mean?”

Javier paused in his kisses. “You’re always making _me_ feel better. I simply wish to return the favour, _mi sol_.”

You cupped his cheeks in your hands. Javi leaned into your touch, clumsily pressing a kiss to one of your palms, practically melting you with the intensity of his gaze. “Yes, Javi,” you said, pressing your lips to his. You found that you could no longer say no to Javier Peña or yourself. You didn’t want to say no to him or to you or to whatever was happening between the two of you. So you fell into bed with him again and again and again.

* * *

As the weeks passed, most things remained the same. With one notable difference. You couldn’t call Javier Peña your boyfriend - you weren’t really in a relationship with him, but it was also a lot more than just two colleagues having sex. It was a nightly occurrence, sharing a bed with him, and you were falling harder and faster for him with each passing day, with more intensity than you had been for the past thirteen months.

Thinking about Javier, you smiled, remembering the time you had arrived at the apartment before him last week. You’d put on the radio and began to dance around the kitchen to the music as you cooked. You were so immersed in what you were doing that you hardly heard Javi come in. A firm squeeze to your backside and his face nuzzled into your neck alerted you to his presence. “Careful,” he had mumbled, pressing kisses into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You’ll give me ideas with that little dance of yours.”

Turning to meet his lips, you said, “Maybe that’s my plan.”

Dinner went forgotten for a long time.

You bemoaned the departure of Connie as well as the inertia of progress in finding Escobar. It had been weeks since any new information that was valuable, and that information had cost Colonel Carrillo his life. Plus, the new leader of the Search Bloc was antiquated in his methods. A search grid wouldn’t help find Escobar, you and Javier both argued as Steve attempted to defend Colonel Martinez’s methods, it would help burn Colombia to the damn ground, with you practically gifting Escobar the match that will burn it all.

It had been just over a month since your encounter with Judy Moncada and her goons at her house when you noticed Javier glancing at the piece of paper that Judy had given him with Maritza’s address on it.

“You thinkin’ about it, Javi?” you asked, meeting his gaze. He nodded. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt,” you cautioned, having no idea where any of this was coming from, “to maybe see if they’re right. And maybe she will give us some valuable information. At the very least, Carrillo will finally have justice.”

All that you said was what Javier was thinking. It was pointless to deny that you were at a standstill as far as finding Escobar went. Maybe it was time to think outside of the box.

Eventually, “I’ll find Trujillo. Make it as quiet and easy as possible.” The two of you both emphasizing that this is a one-off thing, using the information given to you by Judy Moncada.

Half an hour later, you were at the address. Javi kicks in the door, gun raised before the door is even fully open. You’d never seen him this angry before. You couldn’t say you blamed him. As Maritza said that she was tricked by Limón, begging to be let go, Javier cuffed her, hauling her over to where you and Trujillo stood watch.

” _What’s up? What should we do?_ ” asked Trujillo. Maritza and Javier exchanged a long glare before Javi came up with a decision. “ _All right. Here’s what’s going to happen,_ ” he said before beginning to detail his plan.

Some time later, you were back in the car with Javi and Trujillo, velcroing your bulletproof vest on.

”You don’t need that, _mi sol_ ,” says Javier from the front seat as you watch for Limón to emerge from the restaurant. Trujillo rolled his eyes at Javier’s nickname for you right as Limón came out of the restaurant. “Go, go!” said Javier. Trujillo was quick to follow, arriving at the safehouse

”Is that… Velasco?” you asked, seeing one of the men emerging from the safehouse that you’ve stopped at.

Javier took a closer look.”It is. Son of a bitch. Hang on. I’m going to call for backup.” Pulling out his cellular phone, he dialed a number, saying he needed backup right away. After a minute he sighed deeply, muttering to himself, hanging up the phone

” _What is it?_ ” asked Trujillo

” _They’re not fucking coming_ ,” groused Javier, rubbing his hand over his forehead in frustration.

” _What are we going to do?_ ” asked Trujillo, “ _we need backup for all those men in there. We can’t take them out just the three of us._ ”

It was a terrible, horrible thought, one that you and Javier thought of at the exact same time. ”Call them, Javi,” you said. Javier nodded and dialled, the two of you ignoring Trujillo’s questioning look.

It wasn’t long before they arrived. Don Berna wore a smug grin on his face that you just want to slap off. Trujillo looked curiously at the both of you. “Let me handle it,” said Javier when Trujillo asks what’s going on. You and Javier stepped out of the car to meet with Berna and the men he’s brought.

You noticed the weapons they’re carrying just as Javier was introducing Trujillo. “ _You can trust him_.” You nodded in agreement.

” _You’re finally seeing the light. Took you long enough_.”

Javier rolled his eyes. “ _Let’s just see if this works_ ,” he grumbled.

One of the brothers asked if the three of you were coming, eyes falling to your bulletproof vest. “ _This one came prepared. I like her_ ,” he laughed. You and Javi silenced him with a glare. If looks could kill he’d be six feet under. As he gave instructions, you shared a look with Javi, and then before you could even blink, a firefight had broken out as the group of you launch an attack on the safe house.

Not long into the gunfire and chaos, a bullet impacted the side of your vest. It felt as though someone’s hit you in the rib with a baseball bat, but you’d live with very little, if any lasting damage. Javier was at your side in an instant. “Mi sol. Mi sol, are you all right? Can you hear me?”

You groaned but nodded. “Fine, I’m fine Javier. Just got the wind knocked out of me. Get Velasco.”

He shook his head and it’s then that you noticed that the shooting stopped. Say what you would about the Castaño brothers and Don Berna, you couldn’t deny that they made quick work of things. “They got him fine without me. Thank God you were wearing your vest.”

You shoot him a look of incredulity before he undoes your vest to check for any damage, his fingers prodding gently at your side. “I’m okay Javi, really.”

As if on cue, he found the bruise that was starting to form along the right side of your ribs and you wince slightly. Javier clicked his tongue. “You were saying?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the relief that you are all right.

* * *

You sat in the backseat of the car while Javier dealt with Maritza back at the house she was staying at. “ _Is this how things are going to work from now on?_ ” asked Trujillo when Javi came back to the car a few minutes later.

Javi shared a look with you in the rear-view window. “ _Don’t worry about it for right now,_ ” said Javier, “ _for right now, I need to get my partner_ ,” and he says this with more than one meaning in the word, “ _home so she can rest_.”

Javi fussed over you like you’ve never seen. He was like a mother hen, you thought. “Javi, it’s fine,” you say, “It’s just a bruise.” You were at his apartment, wearing his green t-shirt that you love so much. “I’m just …. Not going to be able to wear a bra for a while,”you teased, not missing the flash in Javier’s eyes or the intake of breath.

“Rest, _mi sol._ I’ll be right here,” Javier insisted. It was then that you realized that you were exhausted, whether from the events of the day or the pain pills he had insisted you take when you returned to his apartment. To appease him, you lay down on the couch as he pulled the blanket up around you.

When you woke, Javi was stepping out of the shower. “ _Mi sol_ ,” he said, noticing you were awake as he came out of the bathroom. He was dressed casually, his hair still damp and curled at the bottom. “How are you feeling?” he asked, bending to kiss you on the lips.

“Better now,” you whispered.

The next day, you called out from work. You felt fine, but you still thought you needed a day off. Around noontime, you had an idea, one that you planned to put in motion when he got home, which he promised to do so earlier than he would have otherwise.

Javier arrived home just as you were putting the finishing touches on your idea. “I brought you some of that cake that you love,” he said, putting the bag down on the table, still not seeing you.

It was then that it hit you like a ton of bricks. Something that you had been denying and avoiding and downplaying. You loved Javier Pena.

”That’s sweet of you,” you said. He sat down on the couch and finally looked at you. You saw the change in his facial features almost immediately as he took you in, wearing an open silk robe and a matching lace bra and panties set. You moved to sit on his lap.

”Baby … _Mi sol_ , what’s this?” he asked tongue darting out to lick his lips as his hands settled on your waist. You kissed him languidly before blinking doe eyes at him.

”I almost died yesterday,” you cooed. By this point, Javi knows that was not true. You peppered kisses down his face, his five o’clock shadow tingling against your mouth.

”Oh yeah?” Javi played along, his hand moving up the bare skin between your bra and underwear. “That sounds really scary, baby.”

You nodded, kissing him again. “It was,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him again.

Wanting to play along and tease you a little bit before giving what the both of you want, Javier said, “What do you want me to do about it, _querida?_ ”

Grinding your hips lightly against his, you said, “You’re being willfully obtuse.”

”I failed math class, baby, I don’t know what that means,” Javi replied before kissing you. You knew for a fact that Javier did quite well in high school math class. You sighed into the kiss.

”You’re being difficult on purpose,” you said as he moved his mouth to your neck, his fingers on the clasp of your bra.

”And you’re being a troublemaker,” he replied, his eyes twinkling at you.

”I know, but you love me for it.”

The words slipped out before you could think. And just like that, you thought that the mood has been killed. You felt Javi stiffen for a split second beneath you, clearly panicking.

 _If only you knew how true that was,_ Javier thought to himself. He loved you so much it scared him.

”I…” You were cut off by his mouth on yours, his strong arms tightening as he picked you up fluidly, allowing your legs to wrap around him properly.

”C’mon, _mi sol_ , I want to do this properly. In our bed.” You didn’t know if the use of the word _our_ was unintentional or not, but you didn’t ask as he carried you the short distance to his bedroom.

Not that he hadn’t been gentle before, but this time, he was more tender, more attentive than usual. As if he was trying to tell you something that he could not put into words.

“That’s my good girl. _Mi sol_ ,” he said as you were coming down from your high, kissing you gently on the chin. You had more bruises on your body, but these ones you didn’t mind as much.

You shared the piece of cake that Javier brought home for you as he smoked and the two of you chatted and just lay there together in bed and you realized that you wanted every day to be like this, even long after the two of you were done with the DEA, with Colombia, with finding Pablo Escobar and bringing him to justice. ”What are we going to do?” you asked, referring to Pablo Escobar, to the deal that you and Javier were most certainly making with Judy Moncada and her lackeys, to your relationship with Javier.

He kissed you gently but languidly, pulling you against his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

You had to be satisfied with a loaded answer, you asked a loaded question after all. As the two of you fell into sleep together, you thought that everything will work out okay, blissfully unaware of what was to come with Velasco and Judy Moncada and her goons and the ongoing hunt for Pablo Escobar.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a lot more angsty than I originally intended it to be, but I can promise that everything will turn out okay in the end. I made the timeline more spread out than it is in the show. And I’m pretty sure that this will be five parts instead of four - I will know definitively when I outline and write chapter four. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Angst, guilt, mutually unrequited (or is it?), canon-typical violence, kissing, implied/referenced sex, non-explicit sexual content, smoking, drinking, swearing, period-typical sexism, emotional hurt/comfort
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @thewayofthemandalorian

Before you knew it, Christmas was quickly approaching. Since Colombia was a Catholic country, they went all out with their decorations. This year, the decorations included dismembered corpses in the city centre of Medellin, courtesy of Los Pepes - what Judy and her group of goons had decided to call themselves.

You and Javier had found yourselves in an alliance with Los Pepes. What was supposed to be a one-time thing had quickly morphed into a regularly occurring partnership of sorts, that had you feeling pulled in two different directions and you didn’t know what to do.

You knew that Javier didn’t know what to do, either. For all his talk of figuring things out, he was in over his head just as much as you were. All the same, however, your burgeoning relationship with him was continuing just as it had been over the past few months.

The relationship you and Javi had was still under wraps. You still slept at each other’s apartments, usually his, but sometimes at yours. He’d stopped seeing his informants some time ago. He made you breakfast. He held you in his arms, distracting you from everything else going on around you. Javier was a refuge from the stormy sea that was the rest of your life.

Most of the time, anyway.

You could tell that it was getting to Javier in the same way that it was getting to you. And for the most part, he hid it well, but every now and again, there were little cracks in the facade he had carefully put in place. It was in the eyes, you thought. Deep, expressive, kind, sad eyes.

You were a staunch believer in reciprocity in relationships. On days where you were worn down and weary, Javier would do what he could to make you feel better. When he was tired and drained, you would do the same for him as he did for you.

You knew that you and Javier were walking on a tightrope, both with Los Pepes and with your relationship. One misstep and everything would come crashing down around you as soon as Crosby or Messina found either of the two things out. But you weren’t ashamed of your relationship with Javier, whatever label it may have had. Quite the opposite. You loved spending time with him, you loved _him_. And as time progressed, you were becoming more and more sure that he had, on some level, feelings for you as well. You wouldn’t go so far as to say he loved you. You were stupid, but you weren’t delusional when it came to Javi.

Then again… Since your confession of sorts when you had been attempting to seduce him three months ago, he’d seemed to be more tender with you, more passionate. The quiet intimacy you shared with Javier was something you cherished.

You didn’t know if Steve knew, or what Connie had told him, what he had witnessed with his own eyes. Steve wasn’t stupid, he probably had put two and two together, especially now that it was getting harder and harder to maintain the image of you and Javier being nothing more than work colleagues. Javier’s hand on your hip, your fingers entwined with his, how much closer he stood to you these days… You were trying to be discreet, but you were also surprised that no one had mentioned anything about it yet.

Today you were distracted. You were more easily distracted these days, thinking about Los Pepes and how you didn’t want to be involved anymore, how Javi didn’t want to be involved anymore. You tried to focus as Colonel Martinez concluded the Search Bloc meeting.

“ _I don’t think I have to tell you that there’s another group combating Escobar: Los Pepes.”_

You and Javier exchanged a discreet glance as you both attempt to remain neutral, impassive, which was only made more difficult to maintain as Martinez continued. “ _Let me be clear, there must and will be a clear division between us and them. When Escobar is killed, it will be a Colombian police officer standing over the body. Am I understood?”_

Everyone in the room except for you and Javier muttered their assent and understanding before Colonel Martinez dismissed the group. Steve noticed. There were a lot of things that Steve noticed.

* * *

You trudged up the stairs to where your desks were situated. You and Javier had a meeting with Don Berna in half an hour that you were both dreading.

“Los Pepes is an interesting new angle,” said Steve conversationally, trying to gauge your reactions.

Javier locked eyes with you for a moment before saying something non-committal. “Well, are you surprised? Escobar’s got a lot of enemies,” he said, opening his desk drawer to find his gun.

Steve continued. “Heard from Messina this morning. There’s a lot of eyes on them and on us, so she wants us to steer clear, make sure there’s no alliances or anything like that.”

Your heart jumped to your throat as Javi joked, “Are you working for Los Pepes, Murphy?” His tone was light, but you could see the worry flash in his eyes just for a split second. He grabbed his gun and tucked it into the back of his pants. The two of you left without another word to Steve, whose wheels were turning in his mind.

You were absent as Javi talked with Berna - you hated how easy it was for the two of you to work with them, how easily the two of you could trade information for results. Steve and Martinez’s words echoed in your ears as Berna and Javier discussed whatever it was this time, you didn’t really know. You could feel Javier’s worried eyes on you as you stared blankly ahead.

It wasn’t until you were back in Javi’s truck, driving back to the apartment that he broke the silence. “You’re quiet today, _mi sol_ ,” he said, merging into traffic.

“Hmmm?” you asked, pulled from your faraway thoughts and worries of all that had happened today.

Javier took your hand in his. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? You seem stressed. Distant.” He rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb, anchoring you to reality.

You sighed. “I just… I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this business of working with Los Pepes. You heard what Messina and Martinez said today.”

All Javier did was nod noncommittally. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s just till we catch Escobar. We won’t be caught.” His words sounded hollow, like he didn’t believe what he was really saying.

And that wasn’t what you were worried about. You sighed again, shrugged, and pulled your hand free from his. You tucked it into your lap, wringing both of your hands together. Ignoring the perplexed look that Javi shot you, you gazed out the window again. The truck is filled with heavy silence until you made it back to the apartment complex.

Javier was upon you as soon as the door shut, his eyes soft and tender as he invaded your personal space. “Let me take your mind off things, _mi sol_ ,” he offered.

You took him up on his offer. But it was getting harder and harder to keep things secret.

All the same, you let Javier distract you in the best way he knew how to, in an attempt to banish as many as many worries from your mind for the time being. It wasn’t doing you any good to worry the way that you were.

And it worked, for a little while, anyway. But then Blackie, a high-profile contact of Pablo’s, showed up on the radar with his girlfriend, forcing you and Javier to contact Los Pepes once again. This time, it was your turn to call Don Berna.

“ _I know that you don’t like this, chica_ ,” said Berna when you called him to give him the information necessary, “ _but it’s for the greater good_.”

You had a hard time believing that.

Keeping a low profile was becoming more and more difficult to maintain. It reached a peak with the almost shoot-out between the Search Bloc and the uncooperative Castaño brothers at a search-point - a convergence that should not have happened and wouldn’t have happened if not for the Search Bloc going in on Blackie and his girlfriend at the same time as Los Pepes - you and Javier were the ones that spoke down the tension, making everyone except for yourselves - and Steve Murphy - feel as at ease as possible in the situation. Most people waved off the scene as being a moment of passion and skilled spokesmanship.

Most people, that is.

“Didn’t realize the two of you were such good friends with the Castaño brothers,” remarked Steve when the three of you made it back to base an hour later.

You didn’t even have the energy to say anything, just looking guiltily at Steve.

“I wouldn’t call them friends,” started Javier, “just people with a shared interest.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” And you knew, you _just knew_ that he wasn’t referring to just being involved with Los Pepes. “How long?” he asked.

Javier didn’t respond, so you did. “Four months,” you said quietly, not daring to look your friend in the eye. Steve’s eyes widened even more.

“We can control it,” said Javier. “If we’re in the inside, we can prevent it from going too far.”

“So it doesn’t go too far?” Steve echoed incredulously. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Javi, do you even hear yourself? The good guys got guns pointed at their fucking heads and the bad guys get away with it?”

Javier stood from where he was sitting. “Who are the good guys, Steve? _Us_? ‘Cause it doesn’t look that way to me,” he said, stalking out before Steve could utter another word.

You didn’t follow. Instead, you flopped down in your chair, burying your face in your hands.

After a long second, Steve broke the silence. “What’s going on, sunshine?” he asked. You glanced up at him through your fingers before shaking your head.

“It’s so fucked up,” you said, your voice muffled by your hands. “We should have never - we should have just said no and left when Berna first approached us four months ago.”

“What happened?” asked Steve. So, perhaps against your better judgement, you told him everything. He was easy to talk to, much like Connie was. You could see why they made a good match. Steve listened, only asking a few questions here and there, which you were quick to clarify.

And then he dropped the other bombshell, the one that you had been secretly anticipating for a while. “And how long have you and Javi been sleepin’ together?” At your attempted look of innocence, he simply raised a brow. “The two of you ain’t exactly discreet. I’m not blind, y’know.”

You sighed for what seemed the millionth time that day. “Four months. It started at the same time as… the other thing. Like, literally the same day.”

Steve nodded. It added up. “He loves you, you know that right?” he said. You scoffed, but there was little weight behind the noise as you thought about it. _Did Javier love you?_

“It’s just such a fucking mess, Murph. I’m already at a disadvantage because I’m a woman, but if even just this relationship with Javier, whatever it is, ends up getting back to Messina or Crosby?” you chuckled humourlessly, “well, all I could say is, it was nice knowin’ ya.”

Steve repeated his question. “What happened?”

You shrugged again, at a loss. “It was supposed to be a one-time thing. When Velasco was caught four months ago. But then -”

“-It became more than either of you could have anticipated,” Steve finished for you. You nodded. On more than one count. Steve took a long drag of his cigarette. “I won’t tell anyone about anything. I promise.”

It meant more to you than you could even say. “Thank you,” you whispered. And then, “Do you think you could give me a ride home?” you asked after a pause. “Javi was my ride this morning and he just sort of…” Steve nodded, grabbing his keys before you could finish the sentence.

Though it was possibly a bad idea to tell Steve everything, you did feel, at least for a little while, a bit better.

* * *

You decided to let Javier come to you tonight. And like a moth to flame, he was there.

“I’m sorry, _mi sol_ ,” he said by greeting. And like a moth to flame, you were consumed by him.

It wasn’t exactly awkward when you were lying in bed next to him later, facing him, stroking his face as you always do, his own hand on your shoulder. But there was an energy between the two of you - the bubble of quiet intimacy is starting to burst, try as you might to prevent it.

At the realization of this, tears began to leak from your eyes as you began to realize just how deep you were in, both with Javier and Los Pepes.

Javier brought his hand up to your cheek. “ _Mi sol_.” he whispered, wiping the tears that you were fighting against. “I know, _mi amor_. I know,” he soothed. You noticed his new nickname for you, remembering Steve’s words from a couple of hours ago.

_He loves you. You know that, right?_

Between Steve’s words and the comfort of being in Javier’s presence, the dam breaks, and you began to cry in earnest. You loved this man more than you could properly say. “I… I don’t know how much more of this I can do,” you said.

Javier panicked for a brief second, worrying that you’re referring to the relationship the two of you had built over these past months.

“I don’t want to get to Escobar through dishonest means,” you continued, your voice cracking. “It makes us no better than him. And I don’t like what it’s doing to me. To _us._ ” You were right. And Javier didn’t know how much longer he could do it either. All he could do right now was let you cry. As you buried your face in his bare shoulder, he thought back to your conversation four months ago.

 _D’you ever feel cursed?_ he had asked.

 _Every goddamn day_ , you had replied.

And so, the following morning, you woke up and went to work with Javier as if everything was fine and the bubble you have with him, the wonderful, perfect bubble of quiet intimacy, isn’t being burst by the DEA and Los Pepes.

It was halfway through the same day that you get intel that Blackie’s girlfriend showed up dead. A week later, there was an explosion, killing civilians. Both perpetrated by Los Pepes.

That was the straw that officially broke the camel’s back for Javier. At least that was what he would say to Don Berna. What really did it was you crying in his bed earlier this week. He couldn’t keep doing it. At breakfast on Friday morning, Javi told you, “I’ve had enough. I can’t - We can’t keep working with Los Pepes.”

You nodded in agreement as Javier kissed you on the side of your head. Since that night when you had wept from exhaustion and confusion in your bed, things had remained nice with you and Javier. The quiet intimacy had remained intact. Somewhat. And Steve had kept his promise, not saying a word to Javier or anyone else about anything regarding what you had told him in the strictest confidence.

When you met with Don Berna that afternoon, he wore the you down with gusto. “ _Just help us get to that gonorrhea of Pablo’s lawyer Fernando Duque and we’ll finally get Pablo._ ” You could see Javier almost break. “ _Of course,_ ” added Berna when you take too long to reply, “ _I am sure your bosses would love to know that their two agents are sleeping together and are our moles in the Embassy._ ”

_Fuck_. Don Bena had the audacity to smirk when he saw the looks on your faces change from anger to begrudging acceptance.

So you accepted and you tracked down the guy. The Centra Spike guy runs intel based on fabricated information Javier claimed to get from a buddy’s CI.

“This has to be it,” you hissed to Javier as the guy from Centra Spike went to get the updated information.

Javier quickly took your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he spoke. “It will be, _mi sol_. I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A moment later, you were presented with updated information from credit card purchases Duque had made. “He’s at a hotel,” said Centra Spike.

“He’s runnin’,” realized Javi, “taking his kid.” Picking up his cellular phone, he called Messina to request surveillance of Duque. Surprisingly, Messina approved the request.

* * *

Javier was gone for a full forty hours. Instead of sending another agent, Messina suggested that he be the one to tail Pablo’s lawyer-slash-political-mouthpiece, rather than another agent since it was Javi’s intel. For thirty-six hours, you waited for something, _anything_ from Javier.

Steve wasn’t there to distract you or reassure you that Javier would be fine, off on his own lead that was equally as secretive. He had grabbed his passport and split yesterday after speaking ever-so-briefly with Messina. In a way, you were glad that it was just you. It meant that you didn’t have to listen to words neither you nor Steve fully believed.

 _They would have told you if something bad happened, right?_

It was right after three in the morning when there was a knock on the door. You had fallen into a light doze on the couch, not wanting to go to bed, choosing instead to stay up and wait for news about or from Javier.

It was Javier, looking lost and exhausted and absolutely worn out. “Javi? What happened? What’s wrong?” you asked.

He didn’t even so much as say hello or respond. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you like a lifeline. He needed to feel you close to him.

Suddenly, you felt damp on your neck and shoulder from where he’s effectively nuzzled his face. “Javi,” you started, listening to his breathing. It was ragged. Javier was shaking.

Coaxing his face away from your neck, you see that he was shaking, his face already red and splotchy. “Oh, Javi, baby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him gently in an attempt to soothe him. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I - Los Pepes, they…” he didn’t need to say anything more than that. You knew what they had done. “I can’t do this anymore, _mi sol,_ collaborating with Los Pepes. I can’t.”

It was your turn to wipe tears from Javier’s face, just as he had wiped the tears from your face a week ago. There were so many things that could be said and done, but for right now, all you could do was hold him in your arms, as he held you in his arms, comfort him as he had comforted you.

The lateness of the hour didn’t matter; the two of you sat on the bed until he had worn himself out, falling into a deep sleep. You slept that night, twined around each other as though the presence of each other would protect the two of you from the world, from the DEA, from Los Pepes and Pablo Escobar.

You woke before him, the morning sun streaming in through the window, landing on Javi’s face and giving him an ethereal, glowing look. He looked calm, peaceful, a look that you had missed seeing. A glance at the clock on your night table told you it was just past eight o’clock in the morning.

It was Friday. You knew that you had meetings and debriefings and assignments, but they could be handed off to somebody else for today, you thought as you gaze at the still slumbering Javier Peña.

Stepping out of the room, you called Messina to let her know that you and Javier weren’t coming into work today. The excuse? “He was awake for thirty-seven hours and I have food poisoning.” She accepted it. Maybe didn’t necessarily believe it, but she accepted it all the same.

You curled back into bed, facing Javier. Gently, you bring his arm around your waist, where it was before you got up, holding his hand in yours. He was always so warm, you mused as you gently kissed his cheek. He sniffled as he stirred from sleep.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. “Hi, _mi amor_ ,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, either from sleep or emotion or both. Your stomach fluttered with butterflies.

“Hi,” you whispered in response. He leaned in and kissed you gently. He was so gentle with you, compared to when you first started this with him. Tender. Like you were something to be cherished. You wondered about the validity of Connie and Steve’s words of Javier loving you. He looked at you like you were the sun.

“We’re gonna be late for work,” he said after a moment, glancing at the clock.

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” you said, “I called off sick for the two of us. We need the day just for us.” You reached up to smooth his sleep rumpled hair.

He shifted you so that you were lying on your back, him above you. “ _Mi sol_ ,” he whispered almost reverently. You leaned up and captured his lips with you. As hungry as the two of you were for food, you were okay with foregoing breakfast for the time being, content to spend some time in bed with Javi.

You spent the entire day just being together, not thinking about work or Los Pepes or what will happen if the DEA discovered your involvement with Los Pepes and/or each other.

Lying in bed in the golden twilight of late afternoon, you and Javier shared a cobbled-together plate of cheese and crackers and fruit, the almost blue smoke from Javier’s cigarette dancing around the room. His eyes were still sad, but they were clear, focused. You knew you needed to broach the subject with him.

“Javier, what are we going to do about Los Pepes?” you asked.

Javi took a long pull from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “ _Mi sol,_ I’m done with them. We should have never said yes to collaborating with them, and I’ve had more than enough,” he started, placing his cigarette in the ashtray on the night table that has effectively become his. “But we’re going to face some blowback when we cut ties with them. Our careers could be over if this ever gets out. But I want to be done with them, and get Escobar in the most honest way as possible.”

You gathered his hands in yours, bringing them up to your lips for a moment before speaking. “Then we’re done with them, Javier. Fuck the consequences.” And you found that you didn’t care much for the consequences.

He smiled in relief, knowing that it was over between you and Los Pepes. He met your lips for a kiss that quickly becomes heated.

Javi peppered kisses down your neck, getting to your ( _his_ ) shirt. His eyes asked a silent question, which you nodded silently in response, helping him divest you of the shirt, which was quickly flung to the floor.

“Mine,” Javier rumbled against your skin. You nodded frantically in agreement. It was the closest thing to a love confession you thought you were going to get, but you were okay with it for the time being.


End file.
